Dying Embers in December

I ignored the cramps in my fingers as I fervently knitted the hat I was making, pushing my pestering thoughts out of my head.  Although this was a soothing activity, which was something I severely needed after being berated, it was also a mindless activity.  I was trying to swaddle my bruised heart with the black yarn that gleamed with red sparkles, but it was futile.  No amount of swaddling would heal my heart…I had to heal my heart myself.  So I tentatively succumbed to my pestering thoughts, thinking that if I faced them head-on, I would be able to accept them better.  When I started paying attention to my thoughts though, they became louder and overwhelming.  I squeezed my eyes closed and began to think of something positive in a desperate attempt to push back the tears that I knew would soon be flooding my eyes.  When I reopened my eyes, all I focused on were the needles in my sore hands, using the pain to create something warm and beautiful.

© 2015 Vic Romero

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